Nine Naughty Novelists Day 8

DAY EIGHT

About Kinsey Holley
I’m a law librarian by day, werewolf smut scribe by night, wife and mommy round the clock. My Hub is my favorite proofreader—he catches the little bitty typos and dropped words that everyone else misses. He’s also great for reference questions as he knows a lot about cars, guns, and anything else with moving parts. I’m working on a steampunk right now and I couldn’t do the tech aspects of the story without him. My Diva often resents the time I spend on my laptop, but she understands that Mommy’s books pay for the school she loves so much. (Pity I’ll never allow her to read them, even when she’s grown.) She’s a voracious reader and a talented writer, as well. I’m a proud native Texan and a longtime resident of Houston. And now that I’ve seen London, Australia is number one on my travel wish list.

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Naughty Tip No. 8: Getting Naughty in a Vehicle

First of all let me just say I’m not a fan of doing it in the backseat; it’s never comfortable and, at my age, it’s just way too hard on the knees. One of my friends thinks sex in a backseat might be a cure for infertility; she says if you put on a taffeta dress and do it in the backseat of your parents’ car you’re almost guaranteed to wind up pregnant. If so, that’s the only reason I can see for getting busy in the backseat.

But that doesn’t mean you can’t still enjoy some vehicular nookie.

1. It’s just a damn shame that the modern pickup truck has a divided front seat; it takes all the romance out of dating a cowboy. Back when I was young and single, if you dated a guy who drove a pickup, you never sat in the passenger seat—not if you really liked him. No, you slid all the way over and cuddled up close to him. He drove with his left hand on the steering wheel and his right hand…wherever you decided to put it.

(Hub drives a beast of a 1979 Chevy stepside. Everything under the hood is new, but the bench front seat is factory original. There’s enough room in that cab to really move around, if you get my meaning. First time my sister ever saw the inside of the truck, she nodded wisely. “Uh huh.”)

2. On the other hand, a sporty little compact car isn’t out of the question. You can easily reach over the console. Just be aware that if you’re fooling around in one of these low to the ground models, the guys in big rigs and pickup trucks might get to enjoy the show. Depending on your voyeuristic inclinations, that might not be a bad thing.

3. Maybe your best bet is an SUV (yeah, I know. Environmentally incorrect but if you live in a spread out area prone to flooding (er, in normal times, that is) with lots of rural roads—i.e., someplace like Houston—SUVs are necessary.

Anyway, they have big roomy trunk/cargo spaces. All you need to pack is a couple bottles of wine and some paper cups. Drive out to the country, put the tailgate down, sit and sip while watching the sun set and, at some point, nature will take its course.

You can do the same thing at home, actually, if your garage is big enough (you don’t want the neighbors peeking.) But then you might have to deal with kids coming outside to see what you’re up to, and that’s a whole nother hassle.

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Excerpt: Ready to Run

“You’re really not like everybody else around here, are you?”

She never could seem to look him in the eye. There was something about him that intimidated her, but in a very “God, I hope he backs me up against a wall” way, not a “God, I hope he doesn’t kill me” way. So she stared at his mouth instead, and the gooey feeling got worse. “No, I’m not.” It gave her a huge, dangerous thrill to sit here and admit something like that. “You’d be surprised how different I really am.”

His eyes searched her face for a long moment. They were sitting there, next to each other but not touching, and just before she became unbearably itchy (and gooey) beneath his scrutiny, he said gently, “I think I have a pretty good idea. And I’m glad you didn’t say anything, angel.”

“You are?”

“Yeah. I’m not from around here, and I’m not going to be here for much longer. I don’t have to care what people think. This is your home. You’re gonna have to see these folks for the rest of your life, so—”

“The hell I am.” Her throat constricted at his casual mention of leaving town soon. Well, she would be leaving town soon too. If she hadn’t already been so good at hiding her feelings, the urge to cry, or maybe throw up, would’ve been hard to resist. But a long-term relationship with Nash had never been in her future.

In which Innocence is Plundered and the dire Threat of Ruination looms, and in which Jealousie rears its Head along with various and sundrie other Head-rearings

Colin gazed at the golden-locked goddess as a helpless, bound mouse might stare at a snake. She prowled in a circle around him, boldly scrutinizing his naked flesh. A profusion of blushes heated his body. He’d always been the sort to hide under the bedcovers while the other schoolboys played their naughty games. That is to say, he’d always assumed they were naughty as the rapscallions made the strangest sounds. He couldn’t help hearing even when he smothered his ears with both trembling hands and several feather pillows. And if certain shameful stirrings in his nether regions occurred, no one was ever the wiser.

But here, tied by his wrists in this faraway ship’s cabin, all hope of disguising his rampant response was gone. When the marauding maiden strolled to his backside, he stole a glance at his fleshly sword. Oh, the shame! That rascally rapier was fully unsheathed and blatantly exposed.

Good tips, Kinsey.
I remember “parking” with dates. I have some nice memories and some hilariously awkward ones. These days we have a minivan and kids. I think I’ll suggest to hubby that we get naughty in the back of the van. It’s pretty roomy with the seats down….